


The Dog Ate My Manifesto

by todisturbtheuniverse



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Crushes, Humor, Interrupting Mabaris, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 23:29:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1282663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/todisturbtheuniverse/pseuds/todisturbtheuniverse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompted by hollyand-writes on Tumblr: Hawke/Anders, the dog ate my manifesto. And I giggled with glee and wrote the following. Takes place during Act 2, pre-romance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dog Ate My Manifesto

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hollyand](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollyand/gifts).



"This is why I’m a cat person."

"Anders."

"Perfectly self-sufficient, cats. They aren’t seized by odd whims when you don’t have time for them. They don’t eat paper. They’re too smart for that.”

“ _Anders_.”

"They know better than to attempt to read via digestion." Clearly, Anders was no longer talking to Garrett; his furrowed brow and put-out glare were directed, instead, at the mabari groveling at his feet, whining. "They know better than to destroy someone’s life work because they were  _bored_.”

"He doesn’t understand you," Garrett said, though he knew it was a lost cause. If the dog could play cards with Varric, he could understand Anders. "He’s just reacting to the tone of your voice."

"Don’t defend him," Anders muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. He took a step back, putting his boots safely out of the line of fire of mabari slobber. Hawke didn’t know why he bothered. There was Darktown muck on his shoes, and the slobber might’ve washed it off. "He ate an entire section. I’ll have to start from scratch.”

"Surely you remember something from it," Garrett said, a little pleadingly, for the sake of his suffering dog.

”Ideas aren’t the same as constructed arguments,” Anders complained. “I’ve been working for ages to get the wording just right.” His shoulders drooped. “No one’s going to read it, anyway,” he mumbled. “Not when they find out it was written by  _me_.”

Garrett hated the little quiver of disgust in Anders’s voice; it seemed like it opened up a wound inside him, somewhere deep where he couldn’t reach to heal it. His mouth wrenched open before he could stop himself.

"Andraste suffered at the hands of magisters. Thus, she feared the influence of magic. But if the Maker blamed magic for the magister’s actions in the Black City, why would he still gift us with it? The oppression of mages stems from the fears of men, not the will of the Maker."

Anders had gone very still while he listened, his features frozen in surprise.

"You leave copies of it everywhere," Garrett said lamely. "I’ve read it. A few times."

The hopeful smile blooming on Anders’s lips was almost as painful as that little quiver of disgust. Almost. Garrett smiled back, Anders took a step closer—

—and right on cue, the mabari howled, a mournful noise of grief.

"Oh, all right,” Anders said gruffly, leaning down to give the dog belly scratches. “Your master got you out of it this time. Just don’t do it again.”

Yes, the way Garrett’s chest tightened up when Anders rolled his eyes was, in fact,  _worse_. The mabari panted happily, unaware of the moment he’d interrupted. Garrett looked away, that hopeful little smile itching under his skin, and wondered what he had to do to get Anders to smile like that again.


End file.
